


The Trouble with Farties

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Space Oddities Season 1: [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe - Space, Anal Sex, Bottom Scott, Breathplay, Cute, Fluff and Smut, Just happy Sciles things, M/M, Minor Liam Dunbar/Hayden Romero, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sex, Silly, Slow Burn, Space Opera, slow burn Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, so much farting, space, the trouble with tribbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 21:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7378579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A good 80% of Stiles’s romantic playbook revolved around buying overly elaborate gifts for someone (the other 20% were pictures of his junk), if he couldn’t buy someone’s affection, he wasn’t sure what there was left to do.</p><p>Stiles buys Scott a pet and everything goes wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Season 1: Episode 3 of Space Oddities. Inspired with love by Star Trek.
> 
> That Sciles Space AU! This is a stand-alone episode and you can read it without reading any others.

Every time the Behemoth’s antiquated thrusters forced the cargo ship to change directions, the entire hull groaned in protest. Like clockwork, its disgruntled crew spewed complaint after complaint, each thinking they were more creative than the last.

_“We’re all gonna die.”  
_

_“I was sick of seeing your sorry faces anyway.”  
_

_“I knew I should’ve gotten off at the last port.”_

And Stiles’s personal favorite, _“Hey mechanic, do something!”_

Usually, the crotchety mechanic would rather force-feed the complainer his arm, but not today. Today, Alpha 16 was going to come up on the main viewscreen. Today their long journey would be over.

Star Sector LDAV-021, one of Alpha 16′s closest, had just been reclaimed by the Resistance. Led by their infamous general, Quasar, they had beaten back Galactic Government forces. For the time being, peace held long enough to allow trade, and the meant longer voyages. It was good for business, and the pay was (relatively) steady, but it also meant more months on the Behemoth. Stiles was looking forward to stretching his legs.

Alpha 16 was an antique, smack-dab In the middle of nowhere, but it sold fuel and supplies. Travelers really weren’t all that picky, but Stiles thought Alpha 16 was special. Stiles thought there was someone aboard it who might be… well, not waiting for him, but someone who might be happy to see him. He was a bartender at Aegis, and a mystery wrapped in an enigma that Stiles liked to call Scott. 

Stiles could say with unflinching confidence that Scott made the best sandwiches in the system and had a smile that could outshine any star. He was the sort of guy who didn’t flinch at getting his knuckles bloody for a stranger and had no trouble calling you an ass to your face. He might’ve gotten more mileage out of the memories of Scott’s smile than the memories of his butt, but Stiles was ready for a reminder of both.

Besides, Scott was the best way to reap his rewards after so much time in space. Earning more credits meant an upgraded wrist terminal for Stiles’s prosthetic arm and synthetic skin that was finally in the range humans could naturally claim. More credits also meant an extra box under Stiles’s bed, one that he was ridiculously proud of, even if he had to hold it close as the cargo ship began its descent into Alpha 16.

He couldn’t disembark fast enough.

There was a new life to the old space station. It would never be a tourist destination, but the halls were cleaner and not as congested. That made all the difference in the world.

The faces weren’t familiar, but Alpha 16 was. Stiles made his way past the wizened spacers losing themselves at the bottom of a flask, and the peddlers who pretended that everything they had to sell was on their booth’s tabletop. He could pick out the stations residents by the way they looked down on everyone and everything with badly restrained contempt, and as always, there were a couple of kids tucked into a dark corner doing what kids in a dark corner did best. Stiles recognized that obnoxious splash of a yellow vest as Liam, Scott’s Wolveen friend, and he considered high-fiving him. Then Liam’s lady pal froze, staring at Stiles, and turned to punch Liam across the face. She stormed away in a huff that didn’t feel all that huffy.

Stiles still winced. He was polite enough to pretend he hadn’t noticed.

The spacer scampered off, adjusting his box under his arm before the bright lights of an all too familiar bar winked at him. The dinner crowd was just trickling out of Aegis, but there were still enough people to appreciate his entrance. Stiles burst through the door and yelled, “Stiles in back in town!”

His raised a hand for enthusiastic applause. The blue-skinned alien behind the counter didn’t look up from the three glasses she wiped.

“Whoopee.”

Sufficed to say, Byex was not enthused.

“Aww, come on. You know you’re glad to see me.” Stiles crowed loudly as the bartender rolled her eyes. “And look! You even kept my seat open for me, you must have heard I was headed back to the station today. You’re too sweet.”

Byrex bared her fangs. “ _Your_ seat? I don’t see your name on it, Spacer, and I barely remember you except for the part that you’re annoying. I’m surprised you’re back, I thought we’d be rid of you for good.”

“Okay fine, not a seat, but a booth? I can have a booth.” Stiles spread himself out on the booth closest to the bar with a self-satisfied sigh and grinned cheekily at Byex, in too good a mood for even her fangs to dissuade him. “You’re never getting rid of me.”

“Pity. Are you going to order something or are you just taking up space?”

“I’ll have one hot bartender, please. Maybe something in a Scott.” He was on fire, feeling increasingly suave and more than a little pleased with himself. With lines like these, Scott wouldn’t be able to resist him. He’d be dropping panties in minutes.

“Scott’s shift is over tonight, he’s not here.” Byex said, her glee audible and Stiles deflated slightly, the wind knocked out of his ego. “You can try again tomorrow, though I’d always suggest throwing yourself out of the airlock.”

Stiles waved away her criticism and slid out of _his_ booth, giving the bartender a wink. “Thanks for the help, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“I’d rather not.” She called after him as he headed out of Aegis and stood on the main plaza of Alpha 16, breathing in the scent of good food, exotic spices, and engine oil. This place was really growing on him. The hunt wasn’t over and Stiles was never known for being a patient man. It was even better that Scott was already home, they had built in privacy and Stiles was looking forward to taking advantage of it. And Scott. There would be a lot of advantage he planned on taking.

He paused outside of the familiar door and ran a hand through his messy hair, putting on his best cocky grin before knocking. “Hey…. _Scott?_ ”

The slick act dropped in an instant as Scott opened the door, eyes red and face blotchy like he’d been crying. Stiles dropped his bag with a thump, immediately pulling the other man into his arms. “Hey, it’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Scott’s voice was muffled against his shoulder. “This is the worst thing.”

“Tell me what happened.” Stiles demanded, wishing he’d been smart enough to contact Scott before just showing up on his doorstep.

“It’s just…Oberto, he was right about to propose after all these months and got amnesia, so now he doesn’t even remember Xristip at all!”

It took one awkward moment of silence for reality to drop and Stiles shoved Scott away. “Is this about that stupid soap opera?!”

“It’s not stupid!” Scott protested, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “And after she gave up her shot to go off-planet to support him.”

“Your face is stupid.” Stiles was appalled. Absolutely appalled really. He grabbed everything off the ground and pushing his way past the bartender to claim his home. He fought to keep his hard-earned annoyance all over his face. Scott had no right looking that good when his face was all scrunched up and covered in snot. Stiles scowled as he dropped his bag on the couch. He carefully balanced his box on his lap before grumbling under his breath, “Besides, you know she’s really in love with Brabertta.”

Stiles turned just in time to watch Scott’s pretty brown eyes widen in delight.

“It’s the only thing that transmits this far out!” Stiles rushed to explain himself, but the damage was done. Scott was grinning, crossing the room in long steps. Stiles raised his hands in self-defense, but he had no hope of stopping the bartender from pressing up against him. Scott only stopped when his box let out a long, demanding croon.

They froze.

“Is it…alive?” Scott nudged the box with the edge of his toe and the thing inside crooned again, a throaty trilling purr that made them both jump. Stiles laughed nervously, trying to regain a little bit of his swagger. This wasn’t quite the big reveal he’d been planning in his mind, but there was still time to salvage the evening. Especially when his most thoughtful gift in the universe won him Scott’s undying affections.

He bent down to grab the box and presented it with a flourish. “I remember that you said you collected things people brought back from their travels and I wanted to get you something. I picked it up when we were refueling on this moon substation, the guy I bought it from said it came from a planet I can’t even pronounce.”

Scott raised his eyebrow skeptically, but curiosity won out and he carefully peeled back the book and peeked inside. A small face peeked back at him and he almost yelped as a small pointed snout poked itself out of the box followed by two overly large, furry ears that twitched in every direction.  “Oh no.” Scott breathed. “It’s cute!”

Stiles had tied up the long fur that fell into its three eyes with an elastic band, and when Scott lifted it out of the box, it let out another croon. It landed on the couch with a thump, still painfully unaccustomed to artificial gravity. Its furred hoofs shuffled noisily with every uneven wiggle, but once it got as far as Scott’s knee, it smooshed its face into his pants and let out an embarrassing grunt that Stiles could only call content.

“I don’t think it really does anything.” Stiles said, sounding less like a wise and well-traveled spacer, and more like a guy who didn’t ask what was in his food before he ate. “But it likes warmth and iron shavings, and you’re not supposed to get it wet, ever. I figured you’d like the company.”

He paused a beat, extremely proud of himself

“I call it Farty.”

Scott burst out laughing, scooping up the little creature who curled up in the middle of his hands and purred. “Are you sure that isn’t your nickname?” he teased, completely taken with the animal. People had brought him gifts before and he treasured each and every one. Little trinkets and pretty baubles from across the universe, but no one had ever given him something alive before. He’d never even considered a pet before, almost no one had one on the station. There wasn’t enough room, but this was something small and sweet.

He could definitely use the company. It was a strange new feeling to have something that actually depended on him, Scott thought it was nice.

The creature gave an enormous yawn and fluttered its ears over its face. “How do I take care of it? Is there anything it needs?”

“Just don’t let it chew on the pipes, and that should be enough.” Stiles said, pleased with himself. “Farty’s not really a demanding sort of guy. It basically slept in that box for the last couple of weeks, didn’t ya?”

The creature burbled and Scott figured out where it got its name.

Stiles very pointedly yawned as well, stretching his arms wide before nonchalantly draping one around Scott’s frame. He wiggled his eyebrows as he leaned in, resting his chin on Scott’s shoulder. “But you know who is a demanding sort of guy…?”

“Stiles.” Scott said with laughter in his voice. It sounded like he was trying to tell the spacer off, but every attempt was undermined by the warmth of his smile.

“Yes! Exactly, _Stiles._ Stiles is so demanding, very absolutely demanding,” Stiles agreed, sidling around Scott so he could wrap his arms around him, slowly tracing down the length of his body while Farty was trapped between them, conveniently keeping Scott distracted. His expression soured, but he asked with so much hope, “I mean, if you’re up for it.”

“Stiles, did you just show up unannounced at my door with an exotic pet all so I’d sleep with you?”

The mechanic stammered for a reply. “Well, I uh… the present was just because, I mean, I thought you’d like a little friend. I mean, it did cross my mind a little. I guess I should have probably called before showing up. When you say it like that, it does sound a little creepy.”

Scott gave a throaty laugh and gently set the sleeping Farty back into his box where the creature curled up with a snort. He threaded his hands through Stiles’s hair until the spacer’s eyes fluttered closed and he sighed. “You can’t buy your way into my bed, just remember that. I want this because I like _you_.”

That didn’t make much sense. A good 80% of Stiles’s romantic playbook revolved around buying overly elaborate gifts for someone (the other 20% were pictures of his junk), if he couldn’t buy someone’s affection, he wasn’t sure what there was left to do. Luckily, Scott distracted him with a kiss and he melted into the other man’s touch.

“I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.” Scott murmured against his lips. “I’m glad you came back.”

Stiles always prided himself on being super smooth, a hit with the ladies and the gents (and a few other species when he was drinking and things got heated), but Scott always made him feel like a stumbling virgin and yet, never once made him feel ashamed of it. Scott pushed him towards his room, and they tumbled into bed, laughing as they lost track of limbs and Scott caught an elbow in his ribs. Stiles tried to orient himself, knocking the lamp from the bedside table with a thud.

It all just made Scott laugh harder and Stiles wanted to kiss that smile off his lips. They met halfway, falling into each other, and Stiles pressed in deep, trying to taste Scott’s joy and touch his butt at the same time. Eager, frantic hands tore at his clothes, like Scott had been thinking about this as much as Stiles had, but that was impossible. Impossible when Stiles spent every night dreaming about the heat of Scott’s mouth, the slick slide of his skin.

The sound of tearing cloth jolted Stiles, and they snickered together, barely moving away to kick off everything, and that was okay. Stiles liked naked a whole lot more than any of his clothes anyway, and twice as much when Scott was naked too.

“Sorry about the lamp.” He laughed, when his arms were full of Scott all over again, hands slowly sliding down his spine. He didn’t stop until he could cup his ass, and Scott spread his legs so eagerly, thighs bracketing his hips. Stiles just wanted to watch him. “I’ll get you another one.”

“Don’t. Knowing you, it’ll be furry and farting.”

“Hey, you like furry and farting.”

“Only present company.” Scott teased, and before Stiles could show him his wit, he was on his back. Scott warm and needy, kissing him again and again, tugging on his hair to get what he wanted. Stiles’s head fell to the side, giving Scott all the access he needed to worry at the junction where his shoulder met his throat, blunt even teeth dragging across his skin enough to make Stiles shudder. Then skilled hands slipped around his cock, tugging on him insistently, and Stiles was _gone._

“Scott.” The name slipped from his lips like a prayer, all the teasing forgotten in the tight ring of Scott’s hands. His hips jerked, a low demanding growl building in his throat.

He was helpless as Scott took him apart slowly. Plush pink lips slid down his chest, trailing wet kisses against his skin. Cruel teeth grazed his nipple, startling a gasp from him as Scott rolled his tongue across the sensitive nub until it hardened. He moved lower, Stiles’s muscles trembling at the feather light touch as Scott kissed down to his navel.

The bed creaked as Scott shifted his weight and slid down his body, Stiles was already breathing hard. When the tip of Scott’s tongue swiped across the swollen head of his cock, Stiles’ groaned, eyes squeezing shut. It was hard enough not to cum all over Scott’s face as it was, if he had to watch the way the bartender’s mouth stretched around him or the way his throat worked when Scott swallowed, he’d be done before they began.

Scott worked him in slowly, swallowing him down inch by inch until his nose was buried in the scratchy hair of Stiles’s belly before pulling off with a tight pop. He twisted his hand, pumping along Stiles’s length slick with spit. “Nothing to say, Spacer?” He teased.

“You are such a fucking tease.  I’m gonna fuck that grin right off of you.”

“There we go, I thought you’d gone mute on me.”

Stiles bared his teeth, fighting back a snarl, but it was impossible to do anything but give in when Scott commanded his body with more control than Stiles possessed. He pressed a kiss to the inside of Stiles’s thigh, warm breath teasing his dripping cock, and Stiles grabbed him by the hair, none too gently trying to pull him closer. Scott took great pleasure in refusing to move.

“I want that mouth,” Scott said, eyes bright and wicked, and fuck, Stiles thought he was going to be on top this time. “I want you to eat me out. Get me wet and open for you before you fuck me. Or is that too much to handle?”

As Stiles choked around his answer, Scott sank down on him, his mouth spread wide as he took in his thick cock, so far it bumped against the back of his throat. Stiles felt it when he moaned, felt his silken heat tightening around his shaft, and fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ this was going to be such a fucking problem. “You asshole-”

There was no way he could ever back down from a challenge like this. As soon as Scott came up for air, he hauled the other man up, sealing his mouth over Scott’s in a commanding kiss and rolled them over on the bed. It was graceless and flailing as Stiles shoved Scott down face into the pillows and pinned him down.

“I think the question is, can _you_ handle it?” He said, chest heaving as he fought to draw breath. He smacked his hand across Scott’s ass hard enough to leave a patch of reddened skin, drawing Scott’s hips up like he was presenting. Stiles traced along the cleft with his thumb, pressing down against Scott’s tight hole.

The noise Scott made at the first quick lick of his tongue was worth it and Stiles knew he’d won. He kept Scott pinned down, working him open with his tongue as drool dripped down the curve of his ass.  He added one long finger, stretching him wider as he fucked Scott with his hand.

They hadn’t done this before, and Stiles had no goddamn idea why. Scott was so needy like this, eager and hungry as he bucked against Stiles’s mouth. Stiles’s fingers dug into the soft skin of his hip, threatening to leave bruises as he kept him steady and worked his finger in deeper, slipping another into Scott’s tight heat. His tongue laved at the space between them, scissoring his partner open as Scott gasped eagerly. His thighs started trembling. Stiles felt them first.

Every movement was a game, a tease, gauging what Scott liked and what he loved. Stiles bet it all on how badly his voice trembled. Scott loved it when Stiles sucked along his rim. Loved when Stiles pressed against his taint, whimpered so prettily when he pushed down hard enough, but he sobbed when  he dipped his tongue passed tight muscle, as far as it would go.

Stiles lost himself in the smell of him, the taste on him, sucking until his jaw ached and Scott’s thighs were tacky with his own precum. He was panting for breath when he pulled away, mouth flushed red and filthy, his voice shot to Hell.

“That doesn’t sound like yes, Scotty.”

Scott jerked in surprise, far too honest for his own good. His back arched so deeply it must have been painful, and when he turned to glare over his shoulder, eyes smoldering beneath sooty lashes, Stiles wanted to own him.

The lube was right where they left it and it gave Stiles a sense of smug satisfaction that he knew exactly where it was. He’d found a piece of Scott’s life and made it his own, the trick was just figuring out how to keep him. Stiles drizzled lube across his fingers, sliding them in cold as Scott gasped at his touch.

“You’re so pretty when you’re spread open for me, Scotty.” He whispered against Scott’s shoulder. “You want this so badly, don’t you. Let me hear you beg me for it.”

“I hate you so much.” Scott’s voice was muffled by the pillows and Stiles just chuckled.

“No you don’t. You want me to fuck you down into this mattress, don’t you.”

Scott just groaned, voice raising an octave as Stiles twisted his tongue deep inside of him. “Yes!” The admission came out as a shout, voice raw and broken. “Yes, Stiles, _please_! Just fuck me already.”

He’d waited months for this and reality didn’t disappoint. He drove down into Scott’s body, fucking him hard enough to punch the air from him in sharp moans. There was no more teasing, just a desperate hungry need. He wrapped his hand around Scott’s throat, hauling him up against him as pounded into him. “I missed the way you taste. I missed all of this. I like the way you need me, Scotty.”

Scott whimpered so prettily, and it was all the sweeter because Stiles knew he’d made him sound that way. His grip tightened round Scott’s throat, synthetic skin and metal squeezing around where he was most vulnerable, and Stiles could feel his Adam’s apple dance against his palm. Scott bore down on him, impossibly tight, his own hands fisting into the mattress. 

“I’m going to keep you like this, keep you here with me for hours.” Stiles promised, dragging his teeth over the shell of Scott’s ear. “I’m gonna fuck you and use you and take you, and you won’t move without thinking of me. I’m gonna make you come on my cock, make you scream. I love it when you scream, Scotty. You’re so hot for me.” 

“Stiles.” Scott made his name sound obscene, drawing it into two syllables with his wicked tongue. He turned just enough that his mouth could brush against Stiles’s lips, straining with need, and it was electric. “Harder.”

Stiles dragged his nails across Scott’s belly, made his partner jolt in his arms, cursing and hissing as he panted for breath. Sweat dripped down his brow, the color high in his cheeks, and Stiles wanted to see his face, wanted to see him when Scott came.

He didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until Scott gasped, open-mouthed and eager. He stiffened impossibly around Stiles, clutching him so close, Stiles ached with want, and Scott came all over his sheets. He never got to catch his breath. Stiles shoved him into the mattress, pounding into him through his climax and all Scott could do was take him until he spilled deep inside him.

They collapsed in a heap, the only sound their ragged breathing as Stiles tried to get his jelly limbs to work enough to move. Even the damn arm felt like it had short circuited, too heavy to shift. Ah well, here was good. Here was warm and slightly wet, but nice with Scott tucked up underneath him. He could just fall asleep like this, enjoying the afterglow until he drifted off. He blinked his eyes open and found himself looking into three eyes that definitely didn’t belong there.

“Holy shit!” He flailed, nearly tossing Scott from the bed as he swatted at Farty who clung to the ceiling and trilled mournfully down at him.

Scott regained his footing with a tired laugh and slid out of the sheets as Stiles made the same mournful groan at losing his partner. “C’mon, Farty. Come here.”

“Nooooooo. Just leave it, it’ll be fine.” Stiles waved a hand in the general direction of the beast. “Come back to bed.”

“Shhhh, I’ve got you.” Scott ignored him, coaxing the little animal down until it curled happily in his hand with a rumbling purr. “Let’s go see if I can find something for you to eat.”

“Well, I’m not moving.” Stiles huffed petulantly and pulled the sheets up higher, determined to enjoy being spent and tired, even if he had to do it alone. Stupid animal, he should probably have had it stuffed before giving it as a present. At least then he would be curled up next to someone instead of trying to navigate the wet spot on his own.

The bed springs creaked as Scott leaned over and pressed a kiss to his damp temple. “Stop whining, I’ll be right there. And welcome back, Stiles.”

Maybe he was reading too much into things, but it almost sounded like  _welcome home._


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, when Stiles got out of the shower, he found Scott and Farty in deep conversation on his bed. Scott with his cheeks puffed out and lips pursed, and Farty… possibly asleep. It was hard to tell. The thing snored.

With a roar, he lunged, wiggling his way around Scott’s back just to watch the bartender squawk, valiantly rescuing his pet as Stiles waged an all-out tickle war on his vulnerable bits and pieces.

“Stop, you nerd!” Scott accused around a mouthful of laughter, and Stiles draped himself against his back, oozing contentedly. It was open season on Scotts, and he was surrounded by big bad predators. Farty had gone back to snuffling at Scott’s palm.

“I win,” Stiles announced against Scott’s shoulder.

“Only because I let you.” Then a playful hand found its way to Stiles’s ribs, and the spacer yelped in surprise. No matter how hard he glared at Scott, his friend only laughed. They settled with Scott petting Farty, and Stiles petting Scott as his wet hair dripped down Scott’s back. Moving was severely over-rated.

“I don’t think I’ve never even heard of something like him,” Scott marveled, completely taken with the tiny beast.

“Well, you might start. Star System LDAV-021 just reopened for trade. The Resistance got it back. I figure that’s where this dude came form.”

Scott’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Is that where you were? I heard there was some really terrible fighting out that way, I didn’t think the Behemoth was going into the middle of the war.”

“Everywhere’s the middle of the war these days.” Stiles said sourly. “And we just hit their outskirts. I picked up this little guy at a trading station in the Qumilla galaxy. They said that Quasar herself led the fight to take back LDAV-021. If she wasn’t before, she’s a legend now.”

There were sure to be billions of beings celebrating her victory, but even with Scott’s stubborn optimism to inspire him, it was difficult for Stiles to feel the same. The Galactic Government was a hard group to love, they were notoriously strict and uncompromising, anyone who disagreed with their methods was considered a traitor. But the refugees who crowded into the space station’s lower floors weren’t all driven from their homes by the Galactic Government. Sure, rebellion always sounded romantic, but the reality for the people caught in the middle was just war and death. 

“Do you think they’ll be able to hold it?”

Stiles shrugged, tracing his wet fingertips up Scott’s spine. “Who knows? They’re stretched pretty thin these days. At least out here, there’s nothing anyone wants and they can leave us alone, right?”

It was meant to be a teasingly light comment, but Scott was troubled at just the thought. This sector of space was far from the fighting with its few inhabited systems. It had escaped the worst, but that could all change one day without warning, if something caught the attention of the Resistance or the Galactic Government.

Stiles realized his error and blew noisily on Scott’s shoulder. When Farty replied in kind, they both burst into giggles. “You know… If you’re worried about fighting coming out here, there’s an opening on the Behemoth.”

“Stiles.” Scott countered, softly chiding him

“Whaaat?” Stiles huffed, in exaggerated ignorance, but he was well-aware of what he’d done. At least the job is real. “We’re looking for a technician. Someone with no kids, and if they bring someone else along, that someone better know how to cook. I figured one of your friends could use a break.”

Scott looked at him like he was on the verge of calling him out. Stiles didn’t know what his face was doing, but he tried to make it as innocuous as possible. He wasn’t sure he succeeded, but Scott smiled anyway. “Thanks, I’ll pass along the message, but I think you should-”

“Hey, did I tell you that I saw your Wolveen friend on the way over?” Stiles interjected smoothly, and he’d be more concerned about how easily Scott’s expression cleared, if it didn’t work so well in his favor.

“Liam? No, why?”

“He got punched in the face.”

“Ah. Probably Hayden, they have a complicated relationship. I think she might actually like him.”

Stiles laughed. “Liked him enough to punch him in the face?”

“What, that’s not too strange? Besides, if you ask me to leave again, I might do the same thing.” Scott was smiling, but there was a word of warning in his voice. There were boundaries, restrictions. He’d made that clear. They would never have more than a night or two together, and maybe a friendship that lingered. Stiles wasn’t sure if he quite believed it would be enough. He was charming, right? Charming enough, anyways, and he already knew he was well past all the alarm bells and warning signs when it came to Scott. If he had enough time, he still thought he could convince Scott of that too.

“Oh please, this is my money maker right here.” Stiles struck a pose and Scott rolled his eyes.

“What money has your face ever made?”

“Shut up, it _could_.” He protested, complaining even louder when Scott pulled himself out of the bed.

“Go get dressed, I need to get to Aegis early this morning. We have a shipment of bottles coming in and I have to be there to take inventory and you can’t stay here.”

Stiles grumbled unhappily. “Yeah, I know. I need to rent my own room. Things would be a lot more convenient if you just let me stay here. Cheaper too, and the easy access to all of this!” He whipped the damp sheets off with a flourish.

Scott burst out laughing. Then he just didn’t stop

Oh fuck, Scott had tears in his eyes. That dick. 

“Hey!” 

Stiles dragged him back in, and Farty almost went flying. They rolled and tussled, grabbing at each other until Scott landed on top of him with a triumphant flop. Stiles grumbled, low in his throat, but every time he tried to push Scott off, he remained stubbornly still. Scott was a lot heavier than he looked. Stiles had no idea where he kept it.

“What am I going to do with _all of this?”_ Scott snickered, but Stiles tensed under him. When he spoke, the dark lines under his jaw that the spacer had mistaken for shadows didn’t move. Stiles frowned, and he raised his hand, tenderly tracing the bruises that outlined where his grip had been. He didn’t realize Scott was watching him with hooded eyes until Stiles looked up to meet him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so softly, Stiles wasn’t sure he said anything at all. “I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve asked.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind a little rough play… I don’t have any regrets about last night.” He leaned over and stole a kiss, catching Stiles’s lip between his teeth in a sharp bite before licking away the hurt. “But ask me, next time.”

“I will.” That meant there would be a next time and Stiles could barely wait. He rolled them over as Scott tried to protect Farty, kissing him soundly before flopping out of bed. “Now you have to sleep and I have to figure out where the hell my pants went.”

It was a calculated offer, Stiles knew he’d pushed his luck but with the way Scott smiled, he knew he’d struck the right chord. Scott wouldn’t have to ask him again. Stiles could pick his battles more carefully and make sure that he didn’t overstay his welcome. Scott murmured his thanks and slipped Farty into his pocket, three bright eyes peeking up over the edge at Stiles.

“I’ll see you later, bro.”

“You bet that ass you will.”

Alpha 16 was a dump, but it was a crowded dump. It wasn’t bustling with activity the same way major space stations were, but ever since the war, it had become steadily more popular. Its center was the busiest, where its many ports welcomed the lost, the desperate, and the vaguely sticky. The mess halls and assembly points weren’t far, and most of the business that catered to travel vehicles remained within reach. A level above and below held everything a hungry spacer needed to entertain themselves, Aegis included. Tent camps could be found spread across almost every corridor, but the largest were on floors far lower than the ports, bleeding into the maintenance levels. They mirrored the residential sectors above, reserved for the station’s permanent citizens. It was a stretch to say that security was dependable, but at least in the upper levels, they came closest to being.

Long, crisscrossing bridges and creaking elevators brought the space station together, packed with creatures from all across the remote regions far from the galactic core.

It had been a long time since Stiles had explored the station. There’d never really been a need to go beyond the areas where he could get a bite to eat and a bed to sleep in, or what passed for the cheap, crude version of entertainment around here. This place had just been a rest stop on his path to recovery, but it was more than that now. It was a place he came back to, it was the final destination at the end of every trip. If he was going to be making this place a part of his life, he might as well get to know it better.

The marketplace was the heart of Alpha 16. Small shops lined the walls and haphazard stalls sprawled out into the spaces between them. The entire station depended on the trade routes and the ships on their way to more glamorous locations, sharing in the wealth of distant worlds they’d never see. With its location far from the war, Stiles wasn’t surprised at the quantity of illegal merchandise being openly sold. If you wanted something restricted, you had to come to a place like this to spend your credits. Maybe they would have an upgrade or two for his arm?

Though with a bitter snort, Stiles conceded that he didn’t used to hunt for tech on a backwater station like this. It was probably safer to steer clear of those upgrades anyway. He liked his tools when they were less likely to blow up in his face.

He browsed through the market, taking advantage of a full credit line and picking up supplies for the long trip back into outer space. He spent too much time wondering if he ought to get something pretty for Scott, or if Farty was going to carry on being charming for him. Stiles grimaced. Farty was maybe working too well.

He was slowly rebuilding his toolkit. The set he had on the Behemoth was decent, but nowhere near as versatile or reliable as what Stiles was used to working with. (It had taken him years to find the perfect set. He still wasn’t sure if he should recreate it or if he even could.) The spacer was in the middle of examining a modified laser cutter when the fight broke out. 

It wasn’t pretty.

There was a roar as a big man waded out into the middle of the market, dragging a squirming boy by the back of his shirt. Stiles paused to watch as the shopkeeper shook his captive roughly.

“I know what you are! Change back, you hairy thief.” He snarled and Stiles was shocked as the boy’s features shifted, the skin shifting and human features melting into something more alien.

“Shit.” Stiles muttered under his breath, recognizing the Wolveen Liam. He hadn’t realized their species were shape shifters, but it looked like the merchants of Alpha 16 were more than familiar with these tricks. He shouldered his way through the crowd that was starting to gather.

“You think you can just come into my store, sniffing around my daughter and pretending to be human?” The man snarled, shaking Liam so hard he went limp. “It’s mutts like you that are ruining this station. All you’ve done is bring crime and disease, taking up space and forcing people to close shop. And then you think you can see my _daughter_? You’re an animal, all of you are! You should all go back to where you came from.”

“Yeah!” The other shop owners added their own voices to the growing mob.

“Who do these shifters think they are?”

“Throw the mutt out the airlock!”

“I didn’t steal anything! I didn’t do anything wrong!” Liam spat, words twisted around his fangs. He tried to make himself look bigger, bunching up his shoulders, but even Stiles could tell it was a wasted effort when the human towered over him and more were closing in.

There was a flash of movement, and Stiles took off running, but he wasn’t fast enough to keep the human from striking Liam down. The Wolveen crumpled in a heap on the ground as Stiles slid into place just before the Hayden’s father could finish the job. His fist slammed into Stiles’s prosthetic, sending ripples of tension up his arm and shoulder.

Once upon a time, that would have hurt the merchant a lot more than it hurt Stiles.

“Stop!”

“Get out of the way, _splicer_ ,” The man sneered down at Stiles with distaste he was almost surprised at, except he was standing in the way of the asshat’s fist and Liam. It was all par for the course.

“Pass. I don’t think I’ll let you beat a kid’s head in today.” Stiles didn’t look away, his jaw jutting out daringly. “What did he take?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Liam gingerly pick himself up of the ground. Stiles winced inwardly in sympathy.

“You blind or did you replace your brain with machine parts too, splicer?” The crowd catcalled and mocked Stiles. He wasn’t their intended target, but one outsider was as good as another and they grumbling took on a decidedly violent tone.

“He’s part Mech, I’ll bet. Throw them both out the airlock!”

The shopkeeper glowered down at the pair, shoving an accusatory finger in Stiles’s face. “You keep that mutt away from my daughter or we’ll ship that animal out of here in a cage.” His lip curled in disgust as he spat at Stiles’s feet. “We don’t need any freaks pretending to be human. Stay with your own kind.”

There was a time when Stiles wouldn’t have let the insult stand. He could have shattered the man, showed them all exactly what he could do, with and without his arm, but he swallowed his rage and started shoving Liam through the crowd and out of harm’s way. _That person_ was gone, better to retreat and get the kid somewhere safe before tempers frayed and someone got hurt. He could protect himself, but he wasn’t sure he could keep the kid in one piece from so many angry attackers at once. ( _That person_ wouldn’t have cared about a hurt kid anyway.)

The crowed jeered behind them as Stiles steered Liam back towards the ship terminals. “What the hell was that about?”

“Nothing.” Liam said sullenly. “I could have handled it.”

“Sure you could have, all by yourself. You looked like you really had them right where you wanted them.”

Stiles scoffed with his entire body, giving Liam a quick once-over to make sure he wasn’t hurt, and then a far slower one to pick apart all the things he could mock the Wolveen for. There was a smudge of dirt on Liam’s cheek and his nose was bleeding freely. Stiles licked his thumb, reached out, and stared into the teenager’s utterly horrified face. He licked his thumb again with more malice, but did not put it anywhere.

“We’re taking you to Scott..” Stiles growled, waving his hand before wiping it on his leg. He grabbed the hem of Liam’s shirt and shoved it at his nose.

Liam humphed out something that could have been a growl or a ‘Thank you, oh Great and Powerful Stiles; my you sure are impressive.” Stiles liked to think it was the latter. It took some cajoling, but he managed to bully the boy all the way to Aegis, his shirt folded up to his face.

Something in Stiles’s chest eased at seeing Scott behind the bar, talking animatedly with Byex in her civilian clothing. He caught the tail end of their conversation, Byex rolling her eyes as she picked through her lunch while Scott cupped something soft and fuzzy in his hands, finishing with, “… I have a fart in the palm of my-”

They stopped abruptly when Stiles walked in, all their attention drawn to Liam’s miserable form.

“Liam!”

Farty fell with a squeak.

The little creature flapped its ears in surprise before toddling down the bar to investigate all the shiny glasses and bottles as Scott immediately went to check on the young Wolveen. He made Liam sit on one of the stools, crouching down on his heels to look in his friend’s face. He reached for a clean rag, gesturing for Byex to wrap up a few cubes of ice and gently held it to Liam’s face.

“Dude, what happened? Are you okay?” He asked gently as Liam took the rag and scowled.

“I’m fine. I had it handled.”

“Kid was getting his ass handed to him by a couple of folks in the market place. They didn’t like him snooping around looking like a human, something about a girl?” Stiles said casually, stealing a piece of fruit from behind the bar and popping it into his mouth. “I had to haul him out of there.”

Liam glared daggers as Scott just sighed. “Were you seeing Hayden again? You know how her father feels about shifters. We’ve talked about this.”

“I didn’t know he was going to be there!” Liam snarled, trying to keep himself from punching Stiles in his stupid smug face. “It was just supposed to be her sister. Clarke doesn’t care if I’m there or not. It was an accident.”

Scott rubbed his hand across his forehead. “I think you should stay away, just for a little while. Let it all calm down. Things are really tense and it’s not safe for-”

“For what, Scott? For someone like _me_? For a refugee? For a mutt? I live here too, I get to choose my own friends.” He slammed the rag down on the counter, sending chips of ice in every direction. “I’m going home, thanks for nothing.”

“Liam, wait-” Scott started, but the Wolveen had his tail tucked between his legs and was beating a hasty retreat. The look Scott sent after him was heartbreaking, and Stiles quietly cursed the bartender for caring too much. He was about to say something comforting, something that would possibly make everything better and maybe even save the universe, when a crash jerked his attention towards the bar.

Byex was spitting curses as she lifted Farty in two terrifying hands, while the rest of them set about wiping up the mess it had made of her food. The fuzzball bleated unhappily.

“You have a bad habit of bringing your pets around here.” Byex said, as she stared pointedly at Stiles, but when she handed Farty back to his owner, she was gentle. Farty seemed content to explore Scott’s thumb, and Stiles wondered if it understood just how close it came to certain doom. Or maybe Byex just didn’t like him.

Scott had the decency to look sheepish when he apologized, until Stiles piped up with, “You know, I could take him home for you. Make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”

“Are you sure?” Scott said, dubious for so many reasons, and Stiles grinned his way through them.

“Of course. I’ll just put him back in his box. He’ll probably nap until you get back like he did on the ‘Moth.” He didn’t understand the look on Scott’s face, but he tried to. There was apprehension, but it wasn’t alone. The bartender winced a little when he handed his keys over, and Stiles snatched them away before he could change his mind. “Don’t worry, dude. I got your back.”

Scott didn’t look convinced, but Farty followed. Stiles knew he was worming his way through the bartender’s trust, even if he had to use Farty to do it. Maybe especially then.

“Thanks, Stiles. I owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m sure we can work something out.” He gave Scott his most rakish wink and swept through the bar with a bounce in his step.

“Come on, Fartsicle. It’s just you and me.”

Farty trilled, and Stiles didn’t think he imagined its disappointment.

Hours later, long after artificial night set in, when his room’s ancient com lit up and Scott’s face filled the screen, Stiles was sure he’d made the right call. Until he realized that Scott’s somber expression probably did not mean this was a booty call.

Nervous and uncertain, Scott worried his lower lip on screen as he fought to find the words. “We have a problem, Stiles.”

Stiles really did not like being right.


	3. Chapter 3

Scott was sitting in the middle of his living room floor and he seemed whole. There weren’t angry residents or rioting refugees or criminal spacers banging down his door. Farty burbled happily to itself in his hands, rolling in a fluffy ball and snuffling between Scott’s fingers. The first thing Stiles noticed was the worried look on Scott’s face. The second was the snorting puffball that carefully picked its way across the floor towards his ankle. Stiles watched warily as the second Farty crept closer to him, tiny hooves lightly _tocking_ against the floor. The little creature poofed as it passed gas on Stiles’s foot and he could swear the thing looked satisfied with itself.

It wasn’t the only one. There was a wave of answering farts from nearly two dozen Farty clones across the apartment. Most were lazily curled in tiny sleeping heaps, a few explored with excited little grunting noises. Stiles picked up the creature that had defiled his shoe. The small animal immediately fell asleep in the warmth of his palm as he brought Farty 2.0 up to his face.

“Scott, what did you do?”

“What did _I_ do?” Scott was quietly outraged, keeping his voice down so he didn’t wake up his new Farty army. “I didn’t do anything! What’s happening to them, are they supposed to do this?”

Stiles plopped Farty 2.0 down on Scott’s knee and sat down on the floor across from him. “Well, uh….”

“Well uh what. Stiles, what are they? You’re the one who bought the thing, you have to know about it!”

“I do! I mean, I sort of do. The guy didn’t say anything about it cloning itself.”

“Are they all doing this?” Stiles asked, vaguely horrified.

“No. Just this one. Farty the First.” Scott sounded miserable, but he didn’t stop petting the yawning creature.

A strange sort of excited dread crept up Stiles’s back, and he couldn’t say why.  It was like watching a crash in excruciatingly slow motion. Something terrible was lurking on the horizon, and it came in a tiny fluffy, farting package. The Fluffmageddon. He would have told Scott if he thought Scott would appreciate it.

“Farty the- you named them? How can you tell them apart. They’re identical!”

Scott sent him a withering look, like Stiles couldn’t possibly ask a stupider question. Well, the joke was on him. Stiles had a lot of stupid questions to ask.

“If you can’t take care of them, I mean, you can always chuck ‘em out an airlock?”

Scott gasped like he’d been personally insulted and put his hands over Farty as if blocking the little creature from hearing any more of Stiles’s hurtful words. “Dude, I am not throwing any of the Farties out of the airlock. It’s not their fault that they’re…doing this.”

“You’re seriously going to keep them all?” He reached out and poked one of the sleeping creatures with a finger and it bubbled sleepily.

“Someone has to take care of them.” Scott’s hands were full of sleepy puffball, so he poked Stiles aggressively with his toe instead. “You have to do something!”

“What the hell do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, something! You’re the one who gave Farty to me, you have to know how to stop it from multiplying.”

Horror dawned slowly across Stiles’s face. “You mean, it’s not done doing whatever it’s doing? There’ll be more of it?”

“I don’t know!” Scott hissed back, poking him in the chest with his foot again. “This is your fault, you have to do something before I’m drowning in them.”

Stiles heaved himself back to his feet carefully so he wouldn’t accidentally squish any of the sleeping poofs and handed Farty 2.0 back to Scott. “Okay, don’t panic. I’m going to be right back as soon as I find something that can help. Maybe it’s already done making new Farties, who knows?”

Farty the First puffed up to twice its size in Scott’s hands, giving a little shake and what sounded like a cough as it hacked up a soggy clone of itself. The new Farty blinked three little eyes up at Scott and started to purr.

“DO. SOMETHING.”

“Right. Okay. Okay, I can do this.” Stiles mumbled, and only realized he’d said anything out loud when Scott sent him the dirtiest of dirty looks. Stiles threw his hands out in exasperation because that really wasn’t helping. He normally had no trouble getting people to not want to copulate. Really, he could be an expert in the field.

He found Scott’s broom tucked into his worryingly empty pantry and started sweeping piles and piles of fluff towards the bedroom. To his credit, Scott didn’t squawk in horror until Stiles started.

“You’re going to hurt them!” The bartender protested. A cacophony of croons echoed through the air as Farties One and All rolled towards their new home.

“I’m being very gentle. Hey, maybe if we smother them in themselves, they’ll all croak.” Stiles grinned, before hastily adding, “I’m joking! I’m joking.”

He wasn’t joking.

“So do you have a doctor on board? Or a vet or something…?”

“Stiles, it’s the middle of the night.”

“You called me!” 

“Yeah, but this was your fault.” Scott did not seem at all bothered by Stiles’s indignation.

Cleaning up took too long. Dazed and confused Farties would try to trot out the door whenever Stiles went to herd the rest of the stragglers. Scott wasn’t much help. He insisted on picking them up by hand, but at least when Scott did it, everything he touched went to sleep.

Stiles plucked Farty the First out of Scott’s hands and gave him a position of power atop a pillow before closing the bedroom door and imagined he could hear a thousand farts puffing up as one behind it. They’d probably have to pick up gas masks on their way back.

“Let’s get this over with.” Scott grumbled, sending one last forlorn look at his bed room. Then he squared his shoulders and dragged Stiles out of his quarters. If Stiles wasn’t so worried about the fate of Alpha 16 (and his nose), he’d have tittered over how they were holding hands.

[break]

The huge, tusked Adron squinted down at the two intruders who’d knocked on his door in the middle of the night, clearly displeased. Dr. Vreloow snorted irritably as Scott held up his hands, trying to get the vet to understand the seriousness of their situation.

“It just started multiplying, I don’t know how to get it to stop. They’re all locked in my apartment right now, but I don’t know how many more clones it’s going to spawn.”

“You should have gotten your pets neutered.” The veterinarian said, giving Stiles a pointed look like he should take that suggestion personally. “And come back during business hours.”

“We didn’t know! It just started reproducing itself, there wasn’t any warning.” Scott pleaded, sticking his foot in the doorway to keep Dr. Vreloow from slamming the door in their faces. “You have to do something.”

The Adron sighed heavily, shaking its tusks. “Fine, what kind of creature is it again?”

Scott looked at Stiles who was forced to shrug. “The, uh, the guy I bought it from said it came from a moon in the Calderon galaxy, in LDAV-021, they were just reopened to trade. It’s about fist size, I guess? Three eyes, really furry. Makes a lot of farting noises.”

The vet froze and it leveled its enormous head at Stiles, staring him down intently. “What did you say?”

Stiles took a step back in surprise, knocking into Scott. “It makes a…I mean….pbbbbt.” He stuck his tongue out and made a weak noise as the vet groaned, slamming his fist against the wall loudly enough to make both humans jump.

“You brought one of those pets on board this station!? We need to get them all quarantined now, before this gets any worse.”

“Wait, why? What’s going on?” Scott tried to question the vet as the giant Adron strode past them down the hall. “What are you going to do?”

“Chuck them into an airlock and hope they die quickly.” The veterinarian grumbled menacingly, and he didn’t even notice how willing Scott was to throttle him. Stiles did, though. He elbowed the bartender as they jogged after him.

“It was just one of them that keeps replicating. If we can stop it, we should be okay,” Stiles said, throwing in a shot for Farty’s future. 

“Maybe.” The Adron conceded, but that didn’t promise anything. He didn’t slow his pace, jogging all the way to Scott’s apartment. It was quiet when they entered. Too quiet.

Scott stepped purposefully into the room, making a beeline for his bedroom, and opened the door.

“Oh no.”

Silence fell over the group. Stiles’s knees began to buckle. The ground was covered in Farties, each of them yawning and snuggling into one another, content to roll and nap til they reached their fill. A few crooned at the sight of Scott, _trot-trotting_ towards his heels to greet him. That wasn’t the worst part.

In the corner of Scott’s bedroom, no higher than a foot was a hole in the wall. One by one, members of the Farty Army rolled through it.

“They’re in the pipes.”


	4. Chapter 4

Scott got on one knee and grimly picked up Farty after Farty, dropping them in the box Stiles held out. They weren’t very fast by any stretch of the imagination. As soon as Scott touched them, they were content to try and snuggle into his palm and most shuffled towards him instinctively, seeking his warmth. Some were already asleep. This shouldn’t have been difficult at all. There were just so many of them.

“Farty the First isn’t here.” Scott said unhappily, his shoulders sagging as he dug through their furry pile, and Stiles stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“How can you tell?”

“You got it wet, didn’t you.” Dr. Vreelow accused bitterly.

“Maybe?” Scott looked at Stiles who shrugged uselessly. “He knocked over a glass at the bar, but it was just a little water.”

“That’s all it takes! These things get a few drops of water on them, and they just take over. We’re going to have to freeze the pipes, that’ll send them back into hibernation.” The vet banged on the pipe angrily and the sound of faintly echoing farts drifted up from below. “If we don’t, they’re going to eat all the iron in the station and keep multiplying.”

“You can’t!” Scott was stricken, protecting the box they’d managed to rescue. “If you freeze the pipes, the refugee camps are going to freeze too. The insulation eroded down there. There’re species that won’t be able to survive temperatures that low.”

The Adron shrugged. “It’s a shame, but it’s them or us. You really want these monsters to destroy the entire station?” He poked one Farty with an enormous finger. As it purred happily, he reluctantly scratched the creature under its chin.

“There’s got to be a different way. Give me some time to stop them, I’m not going to let you hurt the refugees.”

The vet shook its head, tusks swinging dangerously in the small space of Scott’s apartment. “Sorry Scott, you know I’d help you if I could, but this is too big. If we don’t stop these things quickly, then we’re all dead. I have to tell the maintenance crew, it’ll take them a few hours to drop the temperatures low enough to make a difference. You have until then.”

Scott protested, but there was no changing the Adron’s mind as he lumbered out of the apartment to report the incident. Scott whirled on Stiles, holding the box of sleeping Farties to his chest. “This is my fault. People are going to _die_ and it’s my fault. We have to do something to stop them before they can lower the temperature!”

Stiles took the box from Scott and sealed it tight before dropping it on the center of Scott’s bed. He yanked out Scott’s sheets, and wrapped them around the box. Only when the knot was firmly secured, did he turned to Scott his arms crossed over his chest. “We’re not going to let that happen.”

_We_. It was so easy to make this their problem, even if Stiles could get back on the Behemoth and beg Captain Jjil to take off. He might even be semi-successful, but he couldn’t dream of trying. Leaving Scott was never an option.

“What we’ve gotta do is lure them somewhere. Somewhere dry, for starters, but then we can contain them. We’ll figure out what to do with them when no one’s threatening to freeze the station. We’ll keep Farty the First separated, and save the day. It can’t be that hard.” He tapped the box for emphasis.

There was a Farty by the door way. It yawned slowly, and turned over to lie on its back with a lazy gurgle. Stiles cursed it to every Hell he knew.

Without a word, Scott scooped it up and stuck the snoozing creature in his pocket, glaring at Stiles like he was daring him to argue. He didn’t say anything, but Stiles could see the tension in the way his shoulders hunched together and the worried crease in his forehead. He was caring enough to want to save every last one of these animals, even though they were pests. The thought of losing actual people because of something he had done was unbearable. Scott already blamed himself and even though he strode through the hallways like he had a plan, it was clear he was afraid.

Stiles silently promised him that he wouldn’t let this happen. This was his fault, not Scott’s, and he wasn’t going to let his gift turn into a tragedy. He could never hurt Scott that way.

“Where are we going?” Stiles asked, huffing slightly as he tried to keep up with Scott.

“To see how far they’ve gotten. Maybe if we can isolate the section of pipes they’re in, we can stop them.” Scott stopped beside a maintenance access hatch, looking up at the rusting, crisscrossed metal pipes that made up the backbone of the station. If they were still in the air filters, then they’d have to pass through here before moving on to the connectors. They could stop it all here if they were lucky.

He tugged at the hatch, hinges grinding in protest before being snapped off by sheer strength. There was a moment they both held their breath, watching the hole hopefully.

The moment was short lived. 

An avalanche of furry poofballs rained down from the pipes, knocking Scott off his feet in a ground mound of trilling, farting adorableness. He shrieked in surprised before he was buried alive.

Stiles _panicked_. He ran up the length of the corridor then back down it before he turned in the opposite direction and sprinted all the way back to Scott’s apartment. Then with monumental effort, he draped Scott’s clean sheets over the little wiggling, cooing mountain.

Scott burst out from beneath the mound, scattering piles of fluff as he went, and Stiles ran to his side, gently tucking escapees back under his trap once he was close enough.

“Did we get all of them!”

“Felt like it.” Scott groaned. He hadn’t moved from where he landed, arms spread, stunned and absolutely useless as Stiles started tying the little buggers up. They were slow and lazy, and Stiles had never been happier to meet creatures like that.

“Oh thank shit, that was a close one.”

Stiles was grinning so wide, his face hurt. They would probably need some help dragging their haul back, but it was a small price to pay for keeping the space station in one piece. Filled with triumph, he turned towards Scott, hoping he could sneak in a reward. Except Scott wasn’t looking at him. Scott was staring at the open hatch, where three bright eyes peered down at him. They blinked down at him slowly, calmly. Then the Farty turned back into the shadows and continued its shuffle down the pipeline.

Stiles hated every one of them.

Scott cursed so colorfully that Stiles was shocked as he reached down and helped the bartender to his feet. “This isn’t all of them, they’ve gotten too far. How did they get here so fast?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll stop them. Let’s get all the rest of them somewhere where they won’t cause any damage and we’ll figure something else out.”

“You’re right.” Scott said, dusting himself off. Beside him, Stiles’s giant ball of trapped fluff crooned in agreement.

“It’s time to get to the _fart_ of the problem.” Stiles held out his hands with a wide smile, waiting for someone to acknowledge how clever he was.

Scott just groaned. It was good enough.

They dragged the gently wiggling sheets to one of the cargo bays, away from anyone who might interrupt them. With Scott’s knowledge of the port’s manifests, he knew exactly which cargo bay was empty and Stiles didn’t question how. The bartender had his hands in every part of Alpha 16’s life, he was coming to accept that. The dropped their bundle in the middle of the floor with the soft sound of a thousand deflating balloons and shivered.

The temperature was already dropping.

Scott rubbed his hands together, mind racing as he tried to put together a plan. Time was running out and if they couldn’t stop this soon, it would be too late for some of the station’s refugees.

He got that look in his eye, that sharp gleam of something that made the hairs on the back of Stiles’s neck rise.

“We need bait.” He said, as he scrutinized the equipment they had on hand with a steady eye. Stiles was willing to bet he knew what he was looking for.

“What bait? All they do is eat and sleep! Their food just sits there as a thousand of them lick a hole through it. They have the entire space station to feed on!” With the chill came the first threads of panic. Scott didn’t look sympathetic.

“Sleep, Stiles. They like sleep. More importantly, they like sleep and body heat.”

“Yeah, well so do I.” Scott gave him a _look._ Stiles squirmed, but only a little.

“What we need to do is increase the heat here, and they’ll come rolling.” Scott said instead, something like hope burning in his eyes, his tone quickening with excitement. “We just need to get this place hotter than the rest of the station for a little while.”

“I’m not setting anything on fire.” Stiles warned. Scott laughed, and he had to wonder if the bartender thought he was joking.

“We’re going to need an oil tarp, a couple of power cells, and.” Scott inhaled deeply. “Methane.”

“Methane?”

“The high-density liquid stuff they use as a heating agent around the station.” Scott agreed.

Stiles balked. “Oh my _god.”_

“Yup.” Scott said solemnly, or at least he tried to. The corners of his mouth kept quirking up. “It’s getting hot in here.”

“Hot damn.”

They were a pretty good team, Stiles had to admit. It had been a long time since he actually worked with someone else, but Scott was quick with the plans and they divided the work easily among themselves. Scott found the methane tanks as Stiles rigged the makeshift machines, pointing the nozzles at the walls every few feet. While he worked, Scott dragged the wiggling bag of Farties into the center of the room and opened every access point in the vents along the walls of the cargo bay. There was no telling where there targets would be coming from.

They retreated back into the middle away from the walls as Stiles tinkered with a small remote control to find the right frequency. His artificial arm was less dexterous than he needed, the model too old and clumsy to be more than a blunt instrument, but Scott was there at his side, helping him make the final minute connections as he wired up the trap.

This was serious, people’s lives were at stake, but Stiles couldn’t ignore how close Scott’s body pressed to his own or how easy it would be to just catch his mouth and kiss him.

“You ready?” He murmured, trying to drag his attention back to their plan.

“Ready.” Scott leaned against him, determined and hopeful. Stiles wasn’t going to let him down.

He pressed the button and the canisters clicked open with an overpowering smell. The ignition caught a moment later and small tongues of fire burst to life, each one heating the metal wall in front of it to a dull red.

Stiles held his breath.

Nothing happened.

His shoulders slumped in consideration. It was getting warmer in the cargo bay, after all.

“Maybe we need to amp up the temperature?” He suggested, but Scott reached out, pressing his fingers against Stiles’s lips to hush him. Stiles had to concentrate very hard on not biting him.

“Shh, listen. Something’s coming.”

So Stiles listened.

It was faint at first, little more than a tap tap tap. The soft sounds of tiny hooves echoed through the vents. Then it got louder, and louder. A _stampede._

“Oh shi-”

The ceiling vent burst open and a tumble of fluffed up, extra puffed Farties fell like rain, meeping in equal parts terror and delight. They were not a species built for flight, but they rolled harmlessly down a mountain of their fellows, tittering and mewling as they went. Scott cheered, jumping to his feet and they mewled as one in recognition.

Hurried footsteps of the bigger variety soon followed as a harried maintenance worker stared in fascination and horror at the sight she’d stumbled upon. Dr. Vreelow was right behind her. Stiles puffed up his chest as he turned to meet her. “Well, ma’am, you’re welcome. We just saved the space station. All that’s left is clean up.”

“What the Hell are you doing with our heating agent? That stuff’s explosive!”

Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but behind him came the sounds of someone very Scott-shaped jumping on a pile of whoopee cushions. All in all, he would call it a good day.

From the back, then Dr. Vreelow wrinkled his not inconsiderable snout and asked, “What’s that smell?”


	5. Chapter 5

Captain Jjil of the Behemoth held one of the Farties carefully between two fingers as it wiggled its tiny hooves and cooed happily at them. With a sigh, they carefully packed the creature into a small refrigerated box with the others. This was definitely not their normal cargo, but Alpha 16 was desperate to get rid of the pests and the pay was good. At the end of the day, credits were credits.

“You sure you don’t want me to blast them into the nearest star?” They growled as Scott crossed his arms and scowled darkly.

“Absolutely not, Captain. It’s not their fault this happened. I want you to return them to the moon they come from, I’m paying you to make sure they all get their safely.”

The Captain grumbled about bleeding hearts who had no business making deals with traders, but they held out their tablet as Scott pressed his thumb against the screen, transferring over the credits.

“It’ll be okay.” Stiles said, giving Scott’s shoulders a little shake as his Captain walked away. Box after box of Farty piled around them. Liam had helped them pack. The Wolveen might still have held a bit of a grudge, but he hadn’t said no when they asked for help. “I’ll make sure we take good care of these things. We’ll get ‘em home again, I promise. And I’m, ah…I’m sorry about all the trouble. Next time I’ll just get you something that won’t actually destroy the entire station, deal? And I promise to take care of your friend, I am glad you managed to find us a good technician. I'm sure the Captain likes her almost as much as the credits.”

Scott laughed wryly and leaned into Stiles’s side, tucking his face into the spacer’s shoulder. Stiles wondered if Scott felt that he belonged there permanently as strongly as Stiles did. “Is it bad that I’m going to miss them?”

“The Farties or your credits?” Stiles was teasing, but Scott’s rueful expression gave him pause.

“Both? It’s a little of both. I was saving that.” Scott said, biting his lower lip. If Stiles hadn’t been so distracted by the pink flush beneath the bartender’s white teeth, he’d have caught the wistful glance Scott directed towards his gloved hand sooner. Stiles swallowed thickly. He hadn’t expected Scott to keep that promise. Most people weren’t good for promises, but Scott was something else. Scott was more than he ever bargained for, and Stiles heart swelled up in his ribs, threatening to burst through its bone cage just for the chance to reach Scott. He’d kiss him now, kiss him and make him join the Behemoth on its journey, give him a few more weeks with the little fart beasts that made him so happy and maybe, maybe he could convince Scott that the universe had so much more to offer than Alpha 16.

A silvery little trill interrupted his thoughts and Stiles looked up to see the Farty on Scott’s opposite shoulder nuzzling against Scott’s neck.

Scott laughed and scooped him up in his hands, just to watch his pet keel over with a whiffle. “Farty the First, you prolific little jerk.”

“How do you know?!” Stiles demanded, aghast all over again.

Scott’s smile was a wicked thing as he flicked the little ponytail Stiles himself had tied to Farty’s bangs, but something in his eyes twinkled like Stiles had missed a joke.

It was still so damned cute, even after causing so much trouble. Scott carefully packed Farty the First in one of the cooler boxes, but set it to the side so it wouldn’t be loaded onto the ship with the others. Stiles raised his eyebrow in a silent question, but Scott just lightly punched him in the shoulder.

“I’m sorry that your shore leave was cut short. I wasn’t really done with you yet.” Scott said and Stiles could have sworn Scott’s smile was a little less bright. Or maybe it was just him hoping that the bartender was going to miss him. “How long are you going to be gone this time?”

“I’m not sure, you know how these things go.” Stiles was putting on his haughtiest expression, but it crumbled under Scott’s warm brown eyes. Damn, he was in so much trouble. This wasn’t what he’d been looking for, definitely nothing he’d ever been expecting, but the thought of months without Scott by his side ached. It had been so long since he’d had anyone he could rely on and trust was a rare enough commodity. But it was more than that, there was something about the way they fit together and the way Stiles dreamed about Scott’s laugh. And the brave, stupid way he was so determined to save everyone…and the money he’d saved for Stiles’s arm.

“You know you could-“

“Don’t.” Scott caught him before he could even ask the question. “You know I can’t.”

There was a warning in Scott’s voice, but Stiles was so far beyond reckless now. “There’s so much out there, we could see it together. I know you want off the station, this could be the start of something amazing. Come with me?”

Scott didn’t turn away from him, but Stiles suddenly felt like they were a thousand worlds apart. There was something missing in his smile, and its absence made Stiles’s knees buckle.

“Goodbye, Stiles.”

“But-”

Scott turned to go, just as Stiles stepped forward. His glare bore accusations Stiles couldn’t shirk, pinning Stiles’s hand in place when dared raise it. There was nothing but a few inches between them, but Stiles didn’t close the distance. He was forced to watch as Scott walked away, a cooler tucked under his arm, his head held high. He didn’t turn back even once.

“But I’ll miss you.”

There was no one to hear his goodbye.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find Dans's awesome fics [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune's stuff [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


End file.
